“Yes,” Evain answers. “I knew the barrier was linked to the Binding, and I knew Charain wouldn’t help me while the barrier stood.”
“Did you consider mentioning that to the rest of us?”
“Not even once.”
Ronan laughs. “Fair enough.”
Evain stands up and stretches his arms. “I’m not used to you talking so little during strategy parties. You usually save your brooding for after work.”
Ronan moves towards the window, where bright winter sunlight diffuses through the sheer curtains. “Karis has things under control. And my skills run more towards infiltration and card tricks than military deployment.”
“I suppose pickpocketing isn’t very helpful here either,” Evain adds. “Or kidnapping.”
“Still not sure if I’m good or bad at kidnapping.” Ronan pulls aside the curtain to peer out across the courtyard. “Actually, one thing I’m good at is recruitment.”
Centuries of finely honed instincts alert Evain to danger. “I’m not going to like what you’re about to say, am I?”
Sure enough, Ronan says, “You should take Leth.”
“Absolutely not,” Evain answers immediately.
Leth ka Tariel is one of the most tedious humans Evain has ever met. No sense of humor. No appreciation of Evain’s many charms. No tolerance for demonic anything. Evain likes most humans quite a bit. They’re very interesting and fun. That’s why he’s bothering with this whole altruistic mission to Lyrisenia in the first place; he doesn’t want his demonic kindred to eat everyone. But Leth aggravates him like nobody else.
Ronan shrugs. “Suit yourself. But you should really take Leth.”
“I really shouldn’t. He’s boring, and he wants to kill me.”
“He only wants to kill you because you’re annoying,” Ronan says. “He’s perfectly polite to everyone else, and he’s exactly what you need.”
Evain hates how right Ronan is. Leth is just an unbound hedgewitch, without access to greater power, but his grasp of magical theory and experimentation is remarkable. He’s also one of the best swordfighters Evain has ever met in the human realm. Evain’s looking for mages who can fight, and Leth is exactly that.
And all right, Leth isn’t completely boring. He’s fun to tease, at least.
“Not that I’m going to ask him,” Evain says eventually. “But he won’t agree.”
Ronan shrugs again. “You don’t know unless you ask.”
Evain gives an exaggerated sigh. “He won’t agree, but where is he these days?”
***
He finds Leth eviscerating a training dummy in an otherwise empty practice hall. Dust swirls around the sword-witch’s feet. His blade is a silver blur, and his hair whips after him. If the loose strands obstruct his vision, it doesn’t slow his ceaseless, violent dance.
A black coat lies discarded in the dust, and Leth’s slim figure is clear through his loose gray shirt. Whenever he pauses, half an instant to hold a pose before lunging into the next movement, the fabric clings to his sweat-damp body. Even from across the room, the line of his waist is clear. Evain could practically span it with both hands.
It’s a shame such a fine figure is wasted on such an aggravating person.
Every so often, silver magic glitters around Leth. Flashes of light from the spell beads in his hair. The magic strengthens and quickens Leth’s movements. His sword gouges through the training dummy’s sackcloth skin, and straw and sawdust spill onto the floor.
Leth is scary-quick on his feet, but Evain knows him well enough to see that he’s slower than usual. He can’t even guess how long Leth’s been out here to actually work up a sweat. The sword-witch is tired or focused enough that he hasn’t noticed Evain’s presence.
Evain considers interrupting Leth’s artful, frenzied disembowelment of the training dummy. Then he considers the likelihood of himself getting disemboweled instead. Perhaps he should wait until Leth has sheathed the sword before calling out.
Settling against a pillar, Evain allows himself the luxury of watching. Leth might be annoying, but he’s easy on the eyes.
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CHAPTER THREE
